Life Among Muggles
by herpderp14
Summary: ABANDONED. Sorry folks; this is what I get for not planning a story fully out before I start writing. Won't happen again. - Draco's mission takes him to live among muggles, and he's NOT happy. Kurt and Santana aren't sure what to make of him. Meanwhile, can Sue Sylvester and Lucius Malfoy ignore the tumultuous sexual tension between them? Formerly titled "Destination: Horror".
1. Chapter 1

Sue Sylvester leaned back in her office chair and cracked her knuckles loudly, admiring her handiwork. Before her lay a massive card house, the likes of which had never been seen. Using seven decks of cards that stretched across three desks (all stolen from unsuspecting teachers), her card house was four feet high and was held together with nothing but Elmer's glue and the sheer intensity of her will. It had taken Sue the better part of three days to construct this monstrosity, during which she had not left her office.

She turned to a small pile of hand-colored paper dolls. Each doll bore a striking likeness to a different member of the Glee club. The first doll was wearing a pink boa and white pants. Sue sneered as she placed the miniature Kurt Hummel between two cards at the bottom of her card castle. The next doll had strait brown hair and a mouth so large it covered its entire face. Sue placed her Rachel Berry doll a little further up. One doll was taped to a Barbie wheelchair: Artie Abrams. Another had black hair and the word "Konichiwa" scribbled across its forehead: Tina Cohen-Chang. Another doll, identical to Tina's had the name "Other Asian" scribbled across its forehead: Mike Chang. Three dolls in red and white cheerleading uniforms represented Quinn Fabray, Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez. In all, there was around a dozen hand-crafted paper dolls. She continued in this vein for some time, painstakingly placing them in different compartments of her card house.

The last doll had a speech bubble containing the words, "Hola, soy una idiota". Its head was dwarfed by human hair that Sue had mercilessly snipped from the real Will Sheuster's head during a particularly dull staff meeting. She placed this doll at the top of the castle and let out a long, evil, vindictive laugh.

She turned around and punched the power button her stereo. The sounds of "Be Prepared" from the Lion King soundtrack rumbled from the concert-grade speaker towers surrounding the desks. As the music swelled, she took out a tiny box of matches. Striking one, she gently lit the hair of the Will Sheuster doll on fire. She watched as the flames engulfed the whole doll, then slowly worked their way down and out along the cards.

"Finally! Glee Club will be MINE!" she hooted wildly over the deafening music as the flames cast her face in harsh relief and the smoke spiraled.

"Be prepared!" she sang menacingly at the cindering Will Sheuster. "Be prepared."

The world went dark and the white GLEE insignia flashed, accompanied by several disembodied high-pitched voices intoning, "Glee!"

000

Lucius tightened his grip on his son's shoulder as the pair wound their way through the crowded halls of William McKinley High School. On every side, the sea of students jostled, shouted and laughed as Lucius did his utmost to avoid contact with any of them.

"Filthy muggles," Draco hissed as they sidestepped two rowdy boys in matching red and white jackets. "Must I really go here for an entire month?"

"Do not question the Dark Lord," his father snapped. "Your mission could be far worse. Do not complain."

"I'm not complaining," Draco muttered sulkily.

The school secretary peered appraisingly at Lucius' long black robes as the pair swept into the principle's office but didn't say anything. She adjusted her glasses and referred to a chart sitting on her desk. After a moment of silence she turned to Draco.

"Hello", she sniffed. "You must be Draco Malfoy. Principle Figgins will be with you momentarily. Please have a seat."

"Malfoys wait for no one," Lucius snapped imperiously as he strode towards the office door and yanked on the tarnished doorknob. Angry voices met their ears.

"I'm sorry William," a man, Draco assumed he was the principal, was saying. "But Sue is entirely correct! I simply must agree with her in this matter, because I side with her at the start of every Glee episode, even though I know how manipulative she is. You simply must adhere to her ridiculous demands, or else this show would not have a plot!"

"I cannot believe this! Sue nearly burnt the school down yesterday, and you're still siding with her? This is not the last you will hear from me, Sue!" the other man, William, shouted before storming past Lucius and Draco. Draco leapt to the side to avoid brushing shoulders with the muggle. Inside the office stood a tall, domineering woman with cropped blond hair. She made to follow William out the door and paused, looking at Lucius calculatingly.

"Get away from me, you common muggle," Lucius sneered at a woman's nose, which was where his eye line was, as she was a full three inches taller than him.

Sue's eyes crackled with animosity. "I have no idea what that means," she hissed, taking a step forward. Lucius held his ground and her gaze. "But I will find out, and if it is something bad, you will rue the day you insulted Sue Janus Penelope Theodora Sylvester the Third." And with that, she stalked from the office, red sweatpants swishing ominously.

Principle Figgins breathed a sigh of relief. He felt he did not get paid enough for this job.

"Now then," he said briskly. "I take it you are the student who wishes to enroll here? Why don't you take a seat?"


	2. Chapter 2

Before I begin- thank you SO much for your kind comments, Canadianchibivampyre and ChukFolchart. I'm like an overeager puppy. Comments are the proverbial doggie treats that give me the motivation to write.

Try as he might (and, admittedly, he did not try very hard), Draco found his mind wandering as the muggle, Higgins, or Fibbins, or something of the sort, rambled on about William McKinley, something called "football" and Draco's class schedule. Inspecting his immaculate fingernails, Draco found himself once again rehashing the events that had landed him in his current situation.

"_Draco."_

_His mother's voice was quivering, whether from fear or excitement, Draco couldn't tell._

"_Bella has informed me you are to attend the Death Eater meeting tonight. The Dark Lord asked for you specifically."_

_Draco stared as the implications of his mother's words hit him like a bucket of ice water. This was it. This was the moment he had dreamed of since childhood. He would be accepted into the Dark Lord's inner circle. He would receive the mark of the Dark Lord, just as his father had predicted. He would finally join the Death Eaters._

_But the scene had not been as glorious as Draco had hoped. Getting the Dark Mark had hurt more than anything he'd ever felt, and this was coming from someone who had been on the receiving end of that Weasely girl's Bat-Bogey Hex (numerous times, in fact). After branding Draco with the Dark Mark, the Dark Lord began dispensing instructions to the surrounding Death Eaters where they sat in the dining room of Malfoy Manor._

"_Nott, Avery, I trust you have been keeping tabs on the Ministry?" the Dark Lord asked, looking at the pair coldly. Draco found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the ugly skull-and-snake tattoo that now marred his forearm._

"_Indeed, my lord," Avery murmured._

_Nott cleared his throat and said, "Everything is going according to plan. Thicknesse should be promoted to head of the Department by the end of the month."_

"_Excellent. And Yaxley, I believe your task was to familiarize yourself with that superstore muggles are so obsessed with?"_

"_Yes, m'lord. The muggle population, particularly abroad, is completely dependent on these Wal-Mart stores. Wiping out Wal-Mart could destroy 'em economically. Though I don't know yet if the place actually sells any walls."_

"_Good, good. After we have conquered the wizarding world, we shall use what you have learned to cripple the muggle population. Now, then. Draco," the Dark Lord turned his red eyes on the youngest Malfoy and Draco straightened with a thrill of terror._

"_Y-yes, my lord?" he stammered._

"_As you are well aware, I am… displeased with your father at the present moment," the Dark Lord hissed. Lucius was currently rotting in Azkaban for his failure at the Ministry. Draco had hoped the Dark Lord would eventually see it fit to break his father out of the wizard prison, but had thus far been disappointed._

"_Your task will be to rectify the wrongs he has committed. Should you fail, you bring dishonor to your family and almost certain death to both your father and your mother."_

_Draco was frozen with fear._

"_Your task is fairly straight forward. You shall go to Hogwarts as usual, and by the end of the year, you will kill Albus Dumbledore."_

_Every Death Eater around the table seemed to draw a collective breath at the Dark Lord's words. Draco realized he was trembling. Kill Albus Dumbledore? He, Draco, was only sixteen. How could he possibly kill one of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived?_

_Draco kept his face carefully blank as he bowed his head towards his master. _

"_It will be done, my lord," he said dutifully. _

Draco was jerked back to the present as Lucius, a look of utmost disgust on his face, stood abruptly and strode purposely from the office. Draco assumed their meeting was over. He hastily grabbed his school schedule and followed suit, swinging his dragon hide book bag over his shoulder as he went.

Lucius turned near the school's front doors and eyed Draco briefly. Draco suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His father was about to leave him in this muggle hell hole, completely alone, for who knew how long. He wondered if he should say something, though he knew Lucius was not fond of farewells.

After a moment, Lucius spoke.

"Your wand, Draco." He held out his hand and waited.

"My- what? Surely you're joking!" Draco's eyes widened in horror. Life here without magic was unthinkable. Surely his father knew that!

"I am not in the habit of waiting," Lucius snapped.

"How am I to defend myself? You cannot honestly expect me to live like these people!"

"NOW, Draco!" Lucius' nostrils flared. Draco hesitantly pulled his wand from his sleeve but held onto it tightly. Perhaps he could reason with his father. Before he could open his mouth, however, Lucius had wrested the wand from Draco's hand and was moving away towards the school's front doors.

"I'll be in touch," Lucius shot over his shoulder.

"Wait! Father- WAIT!" Draco nearly panicked as his father strode from view.

Somewhere above his head, a bell rang and students began to swirl around the stunned, stationary form of Draco Malfoy.

_For weeks, Draco had brooded and plotted in Malfoy Manor as he counted the days until his return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_His first month at Hogwarts passed in a blur. His shining moment of kicking stupid Potter in the face was short-lived as the task of killing Albus Dumbledore slowly consumed his every thought. _

_Then, on a particularly chilly morning in October, as Draco sat huddled in a corner of the courtyard, his eagle owl delivered a hastily penned note from his mother. It said simply:_

"_Draco. Your mission has changed. Return home immediately."_

_Draco's heart soared and the weather suddenly seemed a bit cheerier. So he wouldn't have to kill Dumbledore after all! _

_If only I had known then what I would be forced to do instead,_ Draco thought forlornly. He was still standing in the middle of the hall, oblivious to the stares from the students around him. _If I had known what my new mission was to be, I would have begged for the old one back. Killing Dumbledore would have been a leisurely stroll through the Herbology greenhouses compared to-_

"NEW KID ALERT!" a deep voice shouted out, startling Draco from his reverie. Several things happened at once, so quickly that Draco barely had the chance to process them. Two boys in matching jackets rushed towards Draco- he caught a glimpse of a strange, flimsy-looking white cup- he rose his arm to defend himself- and, suddenly, Draco was spluttering as he was hit with a wave of icy water. Icy, _blue_, water, he noted as he opened his eyes. The two boys dashed off, smacking high fives and hooting loudly. Draco watched a chunk of ice slide down a strand of white-blond hair and plunk pathetically to the floor. _Oh god,_ Draco gasped. _What IS this stuff? Will it dye my hair blue? OH GOD._

"Sucks, looks like you got slushied. Welcome to McKinley High," a white and red uniformed girl commented as she strolled by. Wiping his eyes, Draco glanced up to see the dark-haired girl smirking seductively at him over her shoulder. He stared. _Who was this goddess among women?_

Lucius strode out the school doors and continued down the sidewalk towards the parking lot. He intended to apparate once he reached an obscure location, far from the eyes of any passing muggles. The Dark Lord had been very adamant that Draco and Lucius were to avoid using outright magic at all costs, lest the muggles notice something odd.

_Not bloody likely_, Lucius mused as he walked. _These muggles are possibly stupider than house elves. _Nonetheless, he had taken Draco's wand from him. The boy was too quick to anger, if his frequent run-ins with the Potter boy and his gang were any indication. No, Lucius did not want to be the one to report to the Dark Lord that Draco had obliterated the entire school after some petty argument with a muggle.

Lucius came up short as a tall woman in a strange blue uniform stepped in front of him. He immediate recognized her as the muggle from Principal Figgin's office.

"Stop right there!" the woman barked, inspecting Lucius' long black robes and walking stick. "Looks like I'm going to have to fine you for crimes of fashion!"

What the hell was this muggle on about? Lucius made to walk around her but she stepped with him, effectively blocking his path. Lucius fought the urge to reach for his wand.

"Wait just a minute while I write you up." She whipped out a clipboard and began muttering aloud as she scribbled.

"Reporting officer… Sue Sylvester… Crime… atrocious fashion choices… violations… obnoxious judge robes and a pimp cane…."

"A- what?" Lucius was practically spluttering with rage. "What did you call my walking stick, muggle?"

"Walking stick! HA! As if you need help walking. That's a pimp cane if I ever saw one, mister," Sue was still scribbling. "Recommended fine… let's say seventy-five dollars."

Lucius did not know much about muggle currency but he felt that seemed preposterously high. 

"Seventy-five? Are you _mad_?"

"I'm feeling charitable today. Wrote someone up last week and charged him a hundred bucks," Sue quipped as she ripped the paper from her board and held it out to Lucius. "The guy was wearing argyle socks and sandals, he should have expected it, to be frank with you. You can mail the money to the address listed. Cash only, make sure it's sent within thirty days-"

Lucius viciously snatched the paper from her hands and tore it to shreds. He wondered how the Dark Lord would react if he hexed the muggle right now. Better yet, he could hit her with the Avada Kedavra curse, transfigure the body to a rock and stash it away in plain sight. No one would have to know.

Sue gaped openly as the man ripped her fashion citation to shreds. No one had ever dared to undermine Sue's authority in such a way. Clearly, this guy had no idea how things operated here. It was Sue's way, always, no arguments. There was no highway option.

"Now I'll have to write you another citation!" she shouted. "And this time, expect the fine to be doubled!"

"Who _are_ you? Is this how muggle society works?" Lucius found his voice rising. "I refuse to PAY for wearing what I choose!"

Sue stared, breathing heavily. _Control, _she told herself. _Practice some control._ Finally, when she felt she could behave somewhat rationally, she spoke:

"I would normally be inclined to strike you with a violent neck chop that would leave you gasping for air in less than two seconds. But your impeccably luscious hair stays my hand, and I realize I cannot render such a man unconscious without first asking what type of conditioner he uses."

Whatever it was Lucius expected from her, it was not that. "Leave me in peace, you muggle bit of _filth_!" he shot, but refused to take a step back.

"I don't have time for this!" Sue flared up again. "I have somewhere to be. But this argument is so far from over you can't even begin to comprehend it! In fact, I'd say this argument has barely begun!" With that, she turned on her heel and marched away towards a large vehicle that was parked diagonally, taking up three parking spots.

"By the way, like my new monster pick-up truck? I figure it will come in useful when I need to mow down the people who oppose me!" Sue shouted, revving the engine.

Lucius' thoughts swirled dangerously as he watched the truck peel from the parking lot with a deafening screech. At the same time, he was perplexed. He had never met someone quite like this muggle. He thought he'd known what evil was. He was, after all, a Death Eater. But this woman was so much more. She was decidedly… wicked. And as much as he tried to push her from his mind, Lucius couldn't help but feel that he'd stared strait into the eyes of the devil. And no one quarrels with the devil without getting burnt.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: To plyHarryPotter1, TooLazyToLogin (story of my life) and omg: thank you for your comments! I have so much planned for this story and I'm glad to have some faithful readers along for the ride!

000

Kurt hated being late for school. _It's probably already halfway through second period,_ he thought as he gave an irritated wave of farewell to Mr. Hummel. But it wasn't his, Kurt's, fault that he'd been unable to find the Gucci pashima scarf his father had so carelessly misplaced. The scarf had been a gift from Blaine, and Kurt wore it every day. (That is to say, he wore it every day that the red scarf complimented his outfit. He refused to let sentimentalism get in the way of solid fashion choices.)

He wrapped the scarf tightly around his neck as he walked, shivering in the crisp autumn air. _Winter is coming_, he reflected sadly. _At least this will give me an excuse to update my wardrobe. _Suddenly, the abrasive voice of Sue Sylvester assaulted his ears. Peering across the parking lot, Kurt could see Sue gesticulating wildly as she scribbled furiously on a clipboard. Something clearly had her worked up.

_What on earth is she wearing?_ Kurt wondered. _Surely that uniform is just a costume- no one in their right mind would allow Coach Sylvester to actually become a police officer! _Kurt's attention was diverted as another figure, a woman robed in black with long, blond hair, stepped forward to snatch a piece of paper from Sue's outstretched arm. The stranger tore Sue's paper to little pieces, scattering them in the wind. Even from this distance, Kurt could see Sue was livid. Oh, this was going to get good. No one dared to throw Sue's authority back in her face without facing dire consequences.

Only when the strange woman turned her head and Kurt got a clear look of her profile did Kurt gasp- the woman was actually a _man_, and a well-groomed one at that. The wind snatched away the majority of the pair's conversation, but Kurt could tell they were arguing over the man's odd attire.

He watched as Sue stared at her opponent, chest heaving. He expected her to smash him over the head with her clipboard, or at the very least continue shouting, but then Sue did something Kurt had never seen her do before. She walked away. True, she resumed her shouting as soon as she'd hopped into the driver's seat of her ridiculously large truck, but she was nevertheless retreating. It seemed that this odd man with questionable fashion sense had, somehow, bested Sue Sylvester. Kurt mulled this information over as Sue peeled from the parking lot, leaving an acrid cloud of smoke in her wake. The man, his expression stony, dusted off his robes and strode in the other direction, towards the woods that surrounded the parking lot.

Kurt wasn't sure what to make of the scene he had just witnessed, but he had an odd feeling it was important. There was something about that man… and the way Sue had reacted to him… Well, there was no time to think about it now. He spun on his heel and headed towards the school.

000

_Draco listened raptly as the Dark Lord spoke to each Death Eater in turn, dispensing instructions and criticisms. They were once again seated at the large, mahogany dining room table at Malfoy Manor. Draco gave a small gasp of surprise as Nagini, an impossibly long, venomous green snake, wound her way around Draco's leg and slithered past him. He would never, ever get used to that hideous reptile._

"_Draco," the Dark Lord's high-pitched voice cut through the air. Draco snapped to attention. "Your current task has been placed in far more… able hands. I have asked Severus to complete the mission to which you were entrusted." He paused._

"_My lord," Draco murmured. "I'm sure, had I been given enough time, you would see, I could have disposed of the old fool myself-"_

"_Silence!" the Dark Lord's already narrowed eyes narrowed even further. "I have no time for your simpering. As it is, I have need of spies abroad. It will not be long before the ministry falls, and then I will turn my attention towards the eradication of muggles. But do not think for one moment," his voice lowered, and each Death Eater leaned in eagerly, "do not think for one moment that my aspirations for control end in Britain. No, Britain is only the start. Soon, I will turn my gaze to other countries… other continents." The Dark Lord's voice rose again and Draco slowly released a breath he did not realize he had been holding._

"_You, Draco, are young and, quite frankly, disposable. I have decided to send you abroad, to act as an undetected spy among the muggles. You will live as they live and send me word of all you've discovered. Should you impress me with the completion of this assignment, you may find that more… exciting future missions await you here."_

_Draco's head was spinning. He, Draco, forced to live among muggles? He'd never survive among those filthy animals!_

"_I have decided not to send you alone," the Dark Lord continued. "While you live among the muggles, I have chosen another to act as a liaison among our wizard brethren in America. Ah, Lucius!"_

_The oak double doors at the far end of the dining hall swept open as Draco's heart leapt. Lucius Malfoy strode impressively into room, the heels of his brass-toed boots tapping loudly across the threshold. His dark robes billowed behind him and the light shimmered enchantingly over his long, silvery hair, which he tossed imperiously over his shoulder. Lucius did not look like a man who had just been broken out of Azkaban. Indeed, Draco thought his father's hair had never looked better, and wondered how he had managed to keep up with his strict hair-care regimen while in prison._

"_Welcome back," the Dark Lord said coldly, as Lucius dropped to his knee. "I was just informing Draco of the mission he is to complete with you." _

_Lucius stood and reverently assumed his seat besides Draco, giving his son the faintest of nods that Draco returned eagerly._

"_I trust you will fill Draco in on the rest of the details," the Dark Lord said to Lucius before turning to the cowering rat of a man at the far end of the table. "Wormtail," he hissed. "Your instructions are to avoid getting your head jammed down another toilet. Goyle was not pleased with being assigned to rescue duty last time."_

"_No fair! It wasn't my fault!" Wormtail shrieked, turning a nasty shade of puce, while Mulcibir and Yaxley chuckled appreciatively and gave each other a swift high-five across the table._

_But Draco was no longer listening. So he was to be traveling abroad with his father! He could have laughed with relief. True, the idea of living among muggles was repulsive, but at least he would have his father by his side. And while Lucius and Draco's relationship had never been exactly warm, Draco no longer felt that death was imminent. This mission might even be fun; Draco had never been to America before. _

_Draco and Lucius left early the following morning amidst a tearful farewell from a distraught Narcissa Malfoy. Two days, three Apparations and one Trans-Atlantic portkey later, Draco found himself in front of a large brick building in a town called Lima, Ohio. Scowling, Draco allowed his father to steer him up the wide, concrete steps that led to William McKinley High School, towards what Draco thought could only be impending doom. _

000

Draco yanked the faucet on and jammed his head in the chipped bathroom sink, hissing a steady stream of curses as he did so. Carefully, he combed his sopping hair to the side (thank goodness he always had a comb on hand for emergencies, for that was certainly what this was). He wished desperately he had his wand to dry out his dripping pants, and his previously white shirt was a distinct shade of blotchy bluish-grey. There was nothing for it, he would just have to wear his suit jacket all day. Fuming, he pulled on the crisp black jacket and headed for the restroom door.

Draco inspected his now soggy schedule as he wandered through the silent halls. Despite himself, he was curious. What sort of classes did a muggle student take, anyway? The first class on his schedule was Math, Room 402. That class would be easy, Draco decided. He was rather skilled at Arithmancy, which used very complex mathematics. But he had missed first period, hadn't he? So he should be in… Advanced Spanish, Room 601, right now. Excellent! He'd spent the summer after his second year in Spain; he was practically fluent. He briefly glanced through the rest of his course schedule- English, Lunch, Biology, Study Hall, Cooking _(what was he, a house elf?)_, World History and something called "Activity Period". So many classes in one day! He wondered if that was a muggle practice or an American one. Perhaps both. He then wondered if he was expected to actually do well in these classes. This whole mission would be a lot easier if he could just ignore his schoolwork, but, knowing his father, he was expected to be the best, no matter where he was. At least there was no Hermione Granger to beat him in every subject. He actually cheered marginally at the thought. _I guess that's what they call looking on the bright side,_ he thought sullenly as he wondered how on earth he was supposed to find classroom 601.

000

Santana was bored. She had been speaking Spanish practically since birth, so the fact that she was taking a Spanish class was a joke. She had decided to take it only because it was comprised of mostly seniors, and there was bound to be at least a FEW hot upperclassmen taking the class, right?

Wrong. Dead wrong. Evidently, only _nerdy_ seniors took Advanced Spanish, which Santana just could not understand. She had wanted to drop the class but her GPA needed the boost, so here she was, sexting as surreptitiously as possible with a (apparently) disinterested Noah Puckerman.

After sending a particularly steamy sext to Puck, to which his response was "lol", Santana slammed her phone shut and tossed it into her purse. So much for that! If he didn't want to appreciate what she had to offer, she would retract her services. Puck's recent disinterest in Santana was probably all Lauren Zize's fault, Santana reflected moodily. Lauren had been stringing Puck along for weeks now, and what was even weirder was that Puck actually seemed to be enjoying the chase- enjoying it enough to now be giving Santana the cold shoulder. Whatever. He _so_ wasn't worth it, anyway.

Santana had just reverted to her usual Spanish class standby, which was imagining what Mr. Schuester looked like without a shirt (or any clothes at all, really) when her thought process was interrupted by the arrival of a complete and total stranger. The door to the classroom swung open with a crash and a boy with slick blond hair and an impeccably defined jaw line swept boldly into the room. Santana was vaguely aware her mouth had dropped open. The stranger's dark eyes roamed the classroom impassively, lingering for just a split second on Santana who regained her blasé composure immediately.

There was complete silence as Mr. Schuester turned away from the chalkboard to see who the late arrival was. "You must be Dra- uh, how do you pronounce your name?" he asked, peering at an attendance sheet.

The boy sneered ever so slightly before saying, "Draco. Draco Malfoy." Draco then stared icily around the room as if daring anyone to make fun of his unusual name.

"Bienvenidos! Everyone, this is Draco, he's moved here from England, so please make him feel welcome! Why don't you grab that seat in the back row, next to Santana? Santana, wave your hand- yes, right there. Now, who can conjugate this verb for me in the past participle?"

_He has an accent. He has. An accent. I wonder if Brittany's met this guy yet? Well, I call dibs._ Santana's mind went into overdrive as the boy marched to the vacant seat next to her. She pulled out a mirror and began applying lip gloss, making a show of ignoring him. She could feel his eyes burning into her, but to her credit, she only met his gaze once, glancing with a fleeting smirk. He scowled and turned away.

She didn't know what she loved most of all about this newcomer. Was it his stormy grey eyes, his flawless British accent, or the aura of icy indifference he was projecting? One thing Santana did know beyond a shadow of a doubt, though, was that someone up above loved her and wanted her to be happy in this up-to-now painfully boring class. Very, very happy.

000

Draco sat in a corner of the cafeteria, eyes down, jaw clenched and with his hands folded tightly in front of him.

Everything about the school unnerved him. The starch white of the linoleum floor. The way the lights above cast everything in an even, sickeningly bright glow that Draco could not for the life of him decide how they provided without magic. And the muggles. Especially the muggles. The breathtakingly beautiful girl who had stared at him with smirking content when he'd been doused in slushie now sat next to him in his Spanish class (though she had given no indication that she recognized him), and Draco felt a certain uneasiness around her. She was undoubtedly attractive, but Draco hated himself for even thinking such things. She was, after all a muggle.

On the other hand, Draco had to admit that he knew virtually nothing concrete about muggles. For the first six years of his life he had been led to believe by Pansy Parkinson's older brothers that the "Muggle Monster," a hulking beast of a thing, lived in his closet and would attack him if he didn't go to bed on time each night.

Draco was now old enough not to believe such tales, (nevertheless, he still slept with the closet doors closed), but he had always figured muggles were undoubtedly monstrous in nature. They didn't shower regularly and bred like animals! They had no knowledge of magic or the wizarding world and were undeniably stupid! They were, in short, something less than human. Or so he had been raised to believe.

Yet he had only been at the school for a few short hours, and already he was drawing comparisons between William McKinley and Hogwarts. The thuggish idiots who had doused him in the icy, blue water reminded him forcibly of Crabbe and Goyle. A group of tittering girls gushing over magazines the next table over reminded him of the moronic Hufflepuffs he'd had to endure back home. And give his Spanish teacher a creepy moustache and he would bear a passing resemblance to that werewolf, Lupin.

"Hey, Karovsky, heads up!" Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched the thuggish boy who reminded him of Goyle catch the brown, oblong ball that a red-and-white clad comrade tossed him. So, his name was Karovsky. If Draco had Crabbe and Goyle by his side, he would have no qualms about making this Karovsky fellow pay dearly the slushie incident. As it was, Draco was not good at physical altercations and without his wand he felt completely helpless to confront the boy.

Draco glanced at his gold-plated watch and sighed. While the start of his school day may have been horrific and degrading, he at least had been kept alert. Now, the day seemed to be positively dragging by. At least lunch was almost over, as he had not had the appetite or fortitude to try the cafeteria food. How he longed for a decent, house-elf cooked meal! For perhaps the thousandth time, he inwardly cursed the Dark Lord.

000

"See that kid with the blond hair? Near the windows?" Kurt asked Mercedes as he piled tater tots onto his plate. "Don't be so obvious about looking, God!" he hastily added as Mercedes craned her neck to see Draco.

"Sorry. Yeah, I see him. Is he new?" Mercedes asked. She helped herself to a ham sandwich.

"Well, if neither of us recognize him, I'd say he's new," Kurt replied. "I think his dad is the guy I saw arguing with Sue this morning. They have _exactly _the same colored hair."

"Huh. Do you think it's bleached? His hair, I mean. It's practically white."

Kurt glanced in Draco's direction. After a moment, he said, "No, it's natural."

"How do you do that?" Mercedes demanded as they walked to an empty table. "He's all the way across the room, how do you _know_ for sure his hair isn't dyed?"

Kurt shrugged. "Women's intuition, I guess," he responded. Mercedes laughed, shaking her head. She didn't notice Kurt had gazed off into space, his expression thoughtful.

000

_Dear Journal,_

_As I finish this delicious lunch I stole from an unsuspecting freshman, I find myself angry and confused: a terrible combination of emotions. This morning I met a man even more irritating than William Scheuster. As much as I would like to put him in his place, I find myself distracted by his impeccable hair, a problem I never had with greaseball Will. I feel I am treading dangerous waters and realize I must use the utmost care in dealing with this strange man and his bedazzling pimp cane._

_Vindictively yours,_

_Sue Sylvester III_


	4. Chapter 4

Draco was bored, once again. Apparently, study hall was nothing more than a time for revision, but he still wasn't sure if he planned on doing well in this muggle school. Instead, he was trying to get the hang of the muggle pen his father had given him. He had to admit (however embarrassedly), it was much easier to write with a pen than with a quill, though his name just didn't look quite as impressive in ball-point ink.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy? Umm… Draco?"

Draco looked up, startled. A red-haired woman wearing a yellow sweater peered down kindly at him. Draco's lip curled; she could have easily been a member of the Weasley clan. Draco noticed she was smoothing the front of her skirt compulsively, as though she was nervous.

"Hello there, I'm Ms. Pilsbury. Well, soon to be a Mrs, but for now I'm still a Ms., ha! Anyway, I'm the guidance counselor here, and we think it's a good idea for new students to meet with me when they first start school here. You know, to make sure the transition is smooth." She gave another nervous laugh and began rearranging her collar. Draco stared, nonplussed. This woman was completely mental.

"Now, if you'll follow me?" She asked and began walking away, heels clicking smartly on the tile floor. "My office is right next door, not far at all! Oh, you might want to take your school things."

Scowling, Draco shouldered his bag and followed the Pilsbury woman from his classroom. A guidance counselor? He didn't need guidance. In fact, he had an overabundance of guidance, between the Dark Lord's demands and his father's expectations. Well, perhaps they didn't exactly 'guide' him as much as control his every move. But at any rate, he certainly didn't need advice from a woman who looked as though a solid gust of wind would completely undo her.

They entered Ms. Pilsbury's immaculate office and Draco sullenly took a seat in front of her desk. There were a few moments of activity as she pulled out a file (Draco could only assume it was _his_ file) and carefully spread the contents across her desk, making sure each paper was evenly spaced. Draco sighed loudly.

When she finally seemed satisfied, she folded her hands and looked up expectantly, smiling cheerily. The silence stretched. Draco stared at the desk top, deliberately not meeting her eyes.

She coughed slightly. "I see from your file that you played cricket in England. Why don't you tell me a little about that?"

_Cricket?_ Draco wondered, bewildered. _What kind of nancy-sounding sport is that?_ Or maybe it was a game involving insects. He settled for an insolent shrug in answer to the woman's question.

"Please use your words, Draco," Ms. Pilsbury admonished. Draco nearly gagged. What was he, five? Still, he continued his silent rebellion.

Thirty uncomfortable minutes later, during which Draco was content to merely sit and listen to the woman prattle about the "adjustment process", she dismissed him, asking Draco to return to meet with her the following Monday as well. _This school is full of Hufflepuffs_, he grumbled inwardly as he took the piece of chocolate she offered and left.

000

Santana rested her head on her hand, deep in thought. She'd been thinking about the new guy, Draco, for the better part of the day and couldn't help but feel like she'd seen him before.

Realization hit her as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. He was the boy she'd seen Karofsky and his idiot friends slushie that morning! She'd even spoken to Draco, what had she said? "Welcome to High School," or something equally moronic. God, she'd been so stupid! Not wonder he'd been staring at her during Spanish. He, of course, had recognized her right away. And here she thought he'd been checking her out all class. No. He _had_ been checking her out. How could anyone not? It was understandable why she hadn't recognized him though, she decided. He looked pretty different when he wasn't covered in blue muck. Just then, Brittany sidled up to Santana, shoulder checking her lightly.

"Hey, girl. Is that party still on for tonight?"

"Hell yeah!" Santana said, shoulder checking Brittany back. It was a bit forceful and Brittany went careening into a locker. She bounced right back though; that was the great thing about Brittany. She was too stupid to let something like that bother her.

000

Draco scowled as he wearily made his way amongst the hundreds of students towards the school entrance. He was utterly exhausted and, truth be told, he was feeling a tad… lonely. Without Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy at his side, he was completely out of sorts. Life here was so bloody different, like a new game where no one had taught him the rules. He'd needed to use the restroom during English and was nearly dragged to the pricipal's office by a Hagrid-sized gym teacher who demanded to know where his "hall pass" was. Clearly the professors here didn't trust the students at all. With good reason, he figured. He didn't trust anyone here, either, though that had more to do with their blood status than the suspicion that every student wanted to skive off class.

His father had informed Draco that his new guardian would meet Draco personally in front of the school at the end of the day, driving one of those muggle vehicles. Draco had gasped in anger upon learning he would not be staying with his father in the wizarding inn an hour away.

"_Surely I won't have to live with muggles!" Draco shouted mutinously, pacing back and forth. Lucius gave his son a look of utter disgust. _

"_Of course not, Draco. That would be nothing short of cruelty. You will be housed with a Squib by the name of Sandy Reyerson. The man is a complete idiot but he's the best we could do on such short notice."_

Draco's scowl deepened as he remembered the conversation. His father could be such a bastard sometimes. Well, most of the time, actually. At least no one had to wonder where Draco had inherited his least desirable personality traits. He plopped himself down on a bench at the school's entrance and nibbled on the "Hershey" chocolate the Pilsbury woman had given him. It was nothing compared to Honeydukes', he decided. Still, he hadn't wanted to touch the food the school cafeteria had to offer, and he finished off the chocolate bar rather quickly.

And so he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He even got so bored as to take out the few History notes he'd bothered to take, as the teacher had hinted at a pop quiz the following week. He glanced up as a shadow passed over his notebook.

Two girls clothed in identical red-and-white uniforms stood before him. Their arms were linked, their hair pulled back in high ponytails. Draco recognized the brunette from his Spanish class earlier that day. He fought to keep his expression completely neutral and uninterested as she opened her mouth.

"Hey."

She slinked over and sat beside Draco. The blond muggle bounced on the other side of him.

"I'm Santana. We have Spanish together."

Draco gave her a quick nod of recognition as her minty breath ruffled his hair. She was practically pressed up against him. He tried not to think about how short her skirt was.

"My parents are out of town so I'm having a party tonight, some cool people are going to be there. You could come, if you want." Santana said with a careless shrug. "Afterwards, everyone's just gonna sleep over." She held out a slip of paper that Draco took as nonchalantly as possible. There was no way he was going to a muggle party, he already knew, but he felt there was no sense in offending the girl (not yet, anyway), as they would have to share the back row of the Spanish classroom for however long he was trapped here.

"Anyway, see you around," she said and got up with her friend. The blond girl stopped short before Santana could get very far, though.

"You're kind of hot. What's your name? I'm Brittany by the way," Brittany said, and held out her hand. Draco looked at her vacant expression and wondered if her last name was Lovegood. Then again, he'd met so many nutters over the course of the day, he wasn't even fazed.

"Draco," he answered after a moment, ignoring her outstretched hand. The sound of his voice startled him, a little. He realized it was the first word he'd spoken in hours.

"Oh. That's a funny name! Ha! Draco. But I guess it could be worse. Like, Bridget, or something," Brittany said, mostly to herself.

Santana glanced at Brittany in confusion. "Uh, Bridget is a pretty normal name, Brit."

"Not if you're a boy," Brittany retorted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, who wants to be named after a bridge, right?"

Draco realized the look on his face must have been that of utter revulsion, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't sure if it was humanly possible for anyone to be so thick. Then again, his best friends were Crabbe and Goyle. But still…

Apparently Santana thought her friend was an idiot, too.

"Oh my GOD, Brittany!" She hissed, then stalked off. Brittany followed.

000

In the end, the squib, Sandy, arrived around six o' clock. He was driving a beat up blue car that reminded Draco of the flying car Weasely and Potter had driven in their second year. That memory, coupled with his obscenely long wait, had Draco positively seething as he stormed up to the car and yanked open the passenger side door.

"Hello there," the man said, glancing at Draco uninterestedly. Sandy Reyerson had buggy eyes and a bald pate that gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat in the dying sunlight. Draco shot him a look of loathing as the car pulled away from the curb.

"Oh, now, don't be like that," the man said in a high, reedy voice. "I don't like this any more than you do. I would never have agreed to have a snotty teenager in the house but, well, my brother's friends can be quite persuasive, so I didn't really have a choice here."

That piqued Draco's interest.

Sandy noticed Draco's questioning look. "You didn't know? My bother is one of your father's pals. You probably know him. Looks like a rat?"

"Wormtail is your _brother_?" Draco asked incredulously. Well, he supposed it made sense; he could see a slight resemblance.

"Half-brother," Sandy said sourly. "And I haven't seen him since I was ten. How is Peter doing anyway? Hanging out with the wrong sort of crowd, if your father is anything to go by." Draco sneered at the slight. Sandy either didn't notice or didn't care, because he continued.

"Here I am, living a thoroughly muggle life, the happiest I've been in 20 years, and suddenly my dear brother's pal shows up on my doorstep, demanding I shelter some bratty teenager. It just isn't fair. Peter always got his way. Guess that's what I get for having the nerve to be a Squib," he added bitterly.

Draco listened to the man grumble for the entire car ride. When they finally arrived at Sandy's abode, Draco's disgust for the man doubled. The house was small, dingy, and, and Draco's opinion, positively rancid. Draco's bedroom was little more than a storage closet; there was barely room for a bed and rickety chest of drawers. Sandy pointed to a large leather suitcase lying on the worn comforter.

"Your dad left this here earlier, you can put your stuff in the drawers if you want. Or not, I really don't care." Draco was about to ask about a house elf, when he stopped himself. Of course this place didn't have a house elf. He wasn't even sure if Squibs were allowed to own them.

Draco's stomach clenched uncomfortably, which had nothing to do with his uneasiness about the living arrangements.

"What about food?" he demanded. "Sure you plan on feeding me at some point?"

Sandy shrugged. "There's, like, a hundred frozen dinners in the freezer. Help yourself." Then he turned and walked away.

Draco wasn't sure what a "freezer" was, but it sounded like he'd have to make his meals himself! Good lord, he was going to starve to death.

Just then, a woman's voice echoed angrily from somewhere in the house. A man's voice cut her off, and the sound of squealing tires erupted from the living room. Confused, Draco dashed towards the sound of the commotion. The sounds were emitting from a strange black box. For a brief dizzying moment Draco thought there were miniature people stuck inside the box, talking loudly. Then he noticed Sandy was sprawled out on the sofa, a look of surprise on his face.

"Wait- don't tell me you've never seen a TV before?" Sandy asked, eyebrows raised. Draco turned his attention back to the box, where a woman was now passionately kissing a man as music swelled in the background. Then the scene cut to a completely unrelated scenario. A teenage boy was talking to a girl inside what looked like a muggle classroom. Draco's brow wrinkled in confusion. Where had the original man and woman gone? Where was the music coming from?

Sandy hooted with laugher and waved around a funny black rectangle covered in buttons. "I'd forgotten how archaic you wizards are! Oh, this is funny. Grab a seat, you've got sixteen years of television to catch up on. Here," he tossed Draco the black rectangle and left the room, still laughing.

Frowning, Draco lowered himself onto the couch and continued to stare at the screen. Once the initial shock of seeing miniature people stuck inside of a box wore off, he began to wonder how it worked. It seemed to behave very much like a wizard radio, but he wasn't sure how the muggles managed to create a visual version of the radio. Bewitched gnomes, maybe? Or a type of boggart? No, it would seem some sort of variation of a Visual Switching charm was in play- but then Draco remembered the box had to be utterly non-magical in nature. He was in a Squib's house, after all.

The minutes passed quickly and Draco began to realize he was watching a story unfold, much like a play. There was a teenage boy who wanted to play a muggle sport involving an orange ball, called "basket-ball". The boy was conflicted because he also wanted to sing and dance. Draco snorted as the boy began to play basket-ball _while_ singing and dancing. Perhaps Draco's knowledge of the muggle world was limited, but this plot line seemed very unrealistic. Why couldn't the boy just do both? It seemed like a moronic, self-imposed moral dilemma worthy of Potter. Utterly ridiculous. Yet Draco continued to watch, transfixed.

An hour later, Sandy arrived at the front door (Draco hadn't even noticed he'd left) to find Draco leaning forward in his seat, still staring at the screen.

"Hey kid, I found this in the car. I'm assuming it's yours," Sandy tossed a slip of paper on the kitchen table. Draco glanced at the paper and turned back to the screen.

"Some muggle girl's party," he muttered distractedly.

"You were invited to a party? By which girl? Is she hot?" Sandy snatched up the paper. "It started an hour ago! I'll drive you over."

"No thanks," Draco said. "I would prefer not to-"

But Sandy was already grabbing his car keys. "Come on kid, you don't have a choice. I want you out of the house as much as possible. Besides, it's good for teenagers to socialize and all that."

Draco scowled as Sandy turned off the muggle TV with the black rectangle. He stalked to his room to change and to throw a few choice items into his leather bag before heading outside to the car, where Sandy was waiting impatiently. Fifteen minutes later Sandy pulled up in front of a stately two-story house. Draco sneered. It was nothing compared to the Malfoy Manor, though a small part of him admitted it was a pretty large house. He could hear the distant thud of a bass coupled with the muffled shouts of drunken teenagers.

"Make good choices!" Sandy called out the open window as Draco left the car. "Wait- want some weed?"

Draco turned, nonplussed. "What, you mean gillyweed?"

"No. Like, pot. You know, the good herb. To smoke. To have a good time! I'll sell it to you cheap since you're living with me."

Draco's eyebrows lifted in surprise. Perhaps muggles called it simply 'weed', though Draco couldn't understand why anyone in their right mind would want to _smoke_ gillyweed. Draco had stumbled upon a few of the older Slytherins snorting gillyweed seeds before the Yule ball, swearing that it heightened sexual pleasure, but Draco wasn't sure if that were actually true. And, obviously, eating gillyweed gave you the ability to breathe underwater, as Potter had so _brilliantly_ demonstrated during the Triwizard Tournament. (Stupid git.) But to smoke it sounded downright shifty.

"Er, I'll pass," Draco said. He had smuggled an enormous bottle of Firewhisky (courtesy of his father) into his bag. He figured that was all the good time he would need.

"You're missing out," Reyerson said, shaking his head. "Lemme give you my number in case you change your mind. You do know how to use a telephone, right?"

"I'll figure it out," muttered Draco. He was anxious to get inside.

000

"There he is! Do you see him? THAT'S BLOND BOY!" Kurt practically blasted Mercedes' ear off in excitement as Draco stoically entered the house. Kurt was on his third cup of "Jungle Juice" and his volume had been steadily increasing as the night went on.

"Shattup, Kurt! Geeze, way to be obvious!" Mercedes snorted into her own red plastic cup and the two collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.

000

Draco paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. To be honest, he hadn't been sure what to expect. But from the looks of things, muggle parties were even more boisterous than the worst Hogwarts parties Draco had seen in his time. Abrasive music assaulted his ears as Draco sidestepped a pair of idiotically laughing friends and he watched, amused, as a bathing-suited Asian boy slid down the banister, his hoots of joy turning to groans of pain as he careened off the railing and smashed into a large urn.

Draco made his way to the kitchen where a large punch bowl and dozens of bottles littered the counter tops. He spotted a tray of sandwiches and gratefully took one. A couple was intertwined on a couch, watching what Draco recognized as a muggle "tee-vee", though Draco wasn't sure if they could hear anything with the thudding music that seemed to be everywhere.

"What's up, man!" A bespectacled boy in a wheel chair skidded up to Draco and held up his hand for a high-five. Draco defensively lifted his arm and the boy slapped his hand enthusiastically.

"Great party, right?" the boy shouted. Just then, the blond girl Draco recognized as Brittany sidled up to the boy and intertwined her hand in his.

"Come on, Artie!" She shouted. "I want to be alone with you!"

"Sorry, man! Duty calls!" the boy, Artie, shouted as Brittany led him down a hallway.

Pansy had often told Draco that he was a quiet drunk. Give him two (or three, or four) glasses of Firewhisky and he was content to sit in a corner and let the excitement revolve around him while he observed, utterly at peace with the world.

And so it was that Draco made his way to the furnished basement (where a majority of the people were congregated), uncorked his bottle of Firewhisky and found an unobtrusive corner from where he could watch the intermingling of about a dozen inebriated muggles undisturbed.

He was just at the point where he felt he was (maybe) starting to relax a little when a large girl broke through the crowd, shoving a few teenagers out of the way with what Draco thought was unnecessary force. Her eyes focused on Draco and she made a beeline towards towards him, draining a plastic cup and crushing it in her hand as she went. She tossed it to the side as she approached and practically straddled Draco. He leaned back nervously, clutching his Firewhisky to himself protectively.

"You are a very, very, very, VERY ATTRACTIVE MAN," the girl shouted, making Draco jerk back. The chair tipped over and he leapt deftly to his feet, quickly becoming terrified as the monstrous, belligerently drunk girl advanced. He grabbed towards his pocket for his wand but, of course, it wasn't there.

"I JUST WANT TO GIVE YOU A WARM WELCOME TO MCKINLEY-"

Here she engulfed Draco in a crushing hug as he tried to dart around her towards the exit.

"-MY NAME IS LAUREN-"

Draco struggled in vain to relinquish the girl's death grip.

"Don't touch me- filthy muggle- let GO!"

Suddenly, someone has grabbed him by the collar and was wrenching him backwards. Draco was forcibly spun around and found himself nose to nose with a furious looking youth with a buzz cut and dark eyes.

"What were you doing with MY girl?" the boy shouted, showing Draco in spit.

Before Draco could say anything, the boy had raised his fist. Draco tried to raise his own arms to defend himself, but it was too late. Before Draco could register what was happening, he felt his head snap back as the boy's fist collided with his left eye, and the world went dark as Draco collapsed to the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

"PUCKERMAN! What were you thinking? Do you _want_ to go back to juvie?"

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Give him air, for cryin' out loud! Back up, everyone!"

Draco moaned as concerned voices assaulted his ears. His face was on fire, particularly his left eye. It seemed he was lying on the floor. _What the hell-_

Suddenly, the recent events leapt to the forefront of his mind and he bolted upright, ready for a fight, or at least the opportunity to run towards the exit.

"Calm down. You alright? Puck really messed you up." A placating hand found his shoulder and Draco turned to the girl who was kneeling beside him. It was Santana. Draco's heart, already beating furiously from his recent altercation, started beating just a little faster. Her hair, sleek and long, hung loosely over her shoulder and for a wild moment Draco wanted to run his fingers through the curtain of dark hair. A split second later he shuddered at the thought.

"Hey, man, glad you made it to my party. Sorry that Puck punched you, he has some-" Santana turned her head slightly as she raised her voice- "_anger management issues_. Let me take a look at that eye. Can somebody get some goddamn ice, please?"

Santana helped Draco into a chair as a girl wearing a ridiculous mint green Victorian-style dress pressed some ice into his hand. It was only then that Draco realized the front of his shirt was wet. He sniffed gingerly. Firewhisky. It had no doubt spilled when he was accosted by that Millicent Bulstrode clone. Well, there went five Galleons down the drain.

Holding the ice up to his eye, (why didn't muggles offer a bruising balm so he wouldn't develop a black eye? Very inconsiderate. ) Draco looked around, his head throbbing. The boy who punched him was standing a few feet away, arguing intensely with a taller, brown haired boy. Several other kids were talking amongst themselves, shooting him concerned glances. Draco scowled. Now that he had his bearings, rage was working its way into his system. Just then, the dark haired menace broke away from his heated conversation and made his way towards Draco. Draco leapt to his feet, hands curling into fists, jaw clenched.

"Hey, uh, Draco, right?" The boy eyed Draco warily. "Uh, I'm Puck. Listen, I'm really sorry I punched you. Uh, I'm a little drunk, and Lauren is sort of my girlfriend, and I got jealous, uh, I shouldn't have punched you."

Santana crossed her arms and leaned forward threateningly. "You know, Draco could tell your parole officer, and you'd be back in juvie in no time _flat_, you asshole!"

"I know, I know!" Puck looked at Draco pleadingly. "Please don't tell anyone, man. Please. I can't go back to juvie."

Draco had no idea who Juvy was, but he decided that if Puck hated her (or it) then that's exactly where he would send him. He opened his mouth furiously, ready to instill the fear of Merlin in the dim-witted youth:

"When my father hears about this-" He stopped, the heated words dying abruptly on his tongue. His father? His father would probably mock him for allowing a muggle to best him. And he couldn't imagine Sandy the Squib taking Draco's side. No, for the first time in his life, Draco had no one in high and important places to threaten others with. It was very disconcerting.

Puck shifted on his feet uncomfortably. The silence was broken when the music, which Draco had not realized had stopped, unexpectedly started up again. Several teenagers whooped and resumed dancing in the spacious basement, and someone yelled, "BEER PONG TOURNAMENT!" There was a flurry of activity and Draco watched as a crowd started to form on the other end of the basement.

Santana looked between Puck and Draco with narrowed eyes. "Are you two going to be okay if I leave you here without a babysitter? I need to go defend my title as beer pong champion," she explained to Draco, nodding towards the cluster of teens. Draco nodded mutely, and she sauntered off, practically baring her teeth angrily at Puck as she went.

Puck shoved his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. "So… are we good?" he asked.

Draco's temper flared up again. "You know, I don't know who Juvy is, but I have half a mind to send you there! What the bloody hell did you mean by it, punching me when that behemoth of a girl was already attacking me-?"

"Juvie is like, uh, kiddie jail!" Puck interrupted. "And I've already been there, and let me tell you, it sucks. I mean, I'm not a good person, but I don't deserve to be in jail, you know?"

Puck noticed Draco's undiminished glower and pulled out a small white box. "Listen, I said I'm sorry. Let's go outside and smoke a peace offering. Like the Indians, you know?"

No, Draco didn't know. But going outside didn't seem like such a bad idea; the stuffy basement was starting to feel oppressive. He moodily followed Puck past the crowd of chanting teenagers and up the stairs. The pair passed through the kitchen and Puck yanked open a glass door that led to a respectably sized patio and hot tub. Puck plopped down on the stairs and, after a moment's pause, Draco followed suit, making sure there was plenty of space between himself and the violent muggle boy.

"You don't fight much, do you?" Puck asked conversationally, pulling a thin, white stick from the box and putting it in between his lips. He pulled out a black plastic object and Draco watched interestedly (despite himself) as a flame flickered to life. Puck lit the end of the stick and inhaled deeply.

Draco sighed dejectedly. No, he didn't fight much. Having Crabbe and Goyle by his side at all times ensured that no one had ever picked a fight with Draco.

"Where I'm from, we view mug- I mean, fist fighting as common and beneath any respectable purebloo- er, person," Draco finished lamely, flushing at how many times he had nearly slipped up and mentioned his wizarding heritage.

Puck arched an eyebrow. "Whatever you say."

Draco shrugged and accepted the thin, white stick Puck was offering him, recognizing it for the peace offering it was. He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, just as he'd seen Puck do. His throat seared with pain and the acrid smoke stung his eyes. It felt as though his sinuses were being branded with the Dark Mark! Much to Draco's embarrassment, he started to hack in his struggle to catch his breath.

"I take it you don't smoke, either," Puck chuckled as he pounded Draco on the back.

_Honestly,_ Draco thought as he hastily gave Puck back the cigarette, eyes still watering. _You'd think these muggles were trying to kill me._

000

Kurt, who was inebriated "past the point of no return", as he put it, was talking an awful lot about that new Draco kid. Mercedes, who thought Draco looked stuck up and bored pretty much all the time, was not particularly interested in Kurt's ramblings and left for more punch the minute Blaine arrived, taking Kurt into his arms and leading him towards the living room.

A small part of her actually enjoyed seeing Puck deck the new kid in the face, if just for the entertainment factor. Once the action had abated, she rushed back to Kurt and Blaine with the latest scoop. Kurt dramatically threw his punch cup to the floor and started towards the basement door, threatening to give Puck a piece of his mind (and maybe his fist). Blaine sensed trouble and managed, with the help of Mercedes, to hold his boyfriend back. It seemed that a disaster was averted. But when Draco emerged from the basement a few moments later, Kurt zeroed in on the blond boy and Blaine followed Kurt's distracted gaze.

"Is that him?" Blaine asked Kurt, sipping from his bottled water in a dignified manner. One of them had to be sober enough to drive home, and that someone clearly wasn't going to be Kurt.

Kurt nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, doesn't that green shirt really compliment his skin tone? I must ask him where he bought it. He really is impeccably dressed."

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows and tried to redirect the conversation. "Yes, well, anyway, I've been put in charge of finding Pavarotti's replacement-"

Kurt interrupted, still talking about Draco. "And that hair! That's a tricky color to work with, but you can tell he realizes that some colors, orange, for instance, would really wash him out. Maybe I should let him know, offer to take him shopping, just in case he _doesn't_ realize-"

Blaine cleared his throat. "Yes, well, anyway…"

Kurt laughed, oblivious to the pointed stare Mercedes was giving him. "I mean, can you imagine orange clothing with that hair style? It's natural, by the way," he informed Blaine. "His hair, I mean. You can just tell. He's not the type to bleach his hair."

Blaine abruptly stood up. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was another guy you'd rather hang out with tonight. I guess I'll just be going, then."

Kurt's mouth dropped open. Mercedes' eyes got wide.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry!" Kurt shot back, face turning red. "I didn't realize being friends with another guy wasn't allowed when I'm dating you!"

"Are you sure you want to be dating me? Because it sounds like you'd rather be with _Draco_, and I wouldn't want to get in your way." Blaine's voice was even but his eyes flashed as he clenched his jaw.

Kurt opened his mouth for another retort but Blaine had already swept up his coat and was walking away. Kurt stumbled to his feet and grabbed his scarf, the expensive one that had been a gift from Blaine, and wadded it into a ball.

"FINE! Be that way! Don't even stick around to- to- talk this out!" he shouted, chucking the scarf after his boyfriend. It bounced off of Blaine's shoulder. Turning, Blaine pinned Kurt with a steely look and snatched the red scarf off the ground. Kurt watched Blaine retreat and, with a strangled sort of sob, staggered in the direction of the bathroom. Mercedes remained on the couch, stunned.

Really, it was all her fault, she reflected as she watched Blaine stalk off. She shouldn't have mentioned Draco, especially considering Kurt's… fascination… with the blond boy. Ah well, nothing else to do but keep drinking. And so, throwing back the contents of her plastic cup, she did just that.

000

After Puck had retreated indoors, Draco realized that what he wanted, more than anything, was to sleep. Even if it meant returning to that flee-ridden bedroom at the Squib's house. He fished Sandy Reyerson's phone number from his pocket and reentered the kitchen, intent on finding a "telly-tone". The problem was, he hadn't the faintest idea what one was. He approached a brown-haired boy he vaguely recognized, wondering how on earth he was supposed to word this question without coming across as a total idiot.

"Excuse me," he said bluntly. "Where is the tella-tone, er, rather, the telle-"

"YOU!" the boy shouted, cheeks flushing with fury. Draco took a hasty step back. "You messed up my relationship with Blaine! I _hate_ you!" The boy grabbed a nearby cup of punch and, whirling around, dramatically splashed its contents in Draco's face.

It was the proverbial straw that broke the broomstick's handle.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?" Draco exploded, upending a platter of vegetables all over the brown-haired boy, who ducked.

"I'VE BEEN COVERED IN UNWANTED LIQUID TWICE- no- THREE TIMES TODAY-"

There was a patter of feet and several more teens rushed into the kitchen to watch Draco's meltdown.

"I NEVER asked to be here- NEVER wanted to live amongst such deplorable FILTH-"

He viscously smashed a smattering of cups underfoot as he raved, building up a true head of steam. His hair, always so perfectly style, fell loose around his face as he jumped up and down, screaming like a toddler.

"AND I CERTAINLY NEVER ASKED TO BE TREATED WITH LESS DIGNATY THAN A HOUSE ELF!" Draco bellowed, wrapping both arms around the enormous punch bowl and, swinging around-

-upended its contents into the face of a stunned Santana Lopez, who had just entered the room.

Time froze, in which the only sound was the splash of jungle juice as it gushed over Santana and cascaded to the floor. Santana stared at Draco in numb shock. Slowly, shock turned to fury. Tremoring, jaw-clenching fury.

"Er," Draco said weakly, Santana's blood pressure rise. "I don't suppose you could tell me where your telly-tone is?"

000

William Schuester stared blearily into his steaming cup of coffee at his usual seat in the William McKinley teacher's lounge. He had never been much of a morning person, and this morning had started off on a particularly bad note. He had received an email from an irate Rachel Berry (and Rachel was difficult to deal with in the best of times, much less than when she was angry) informing Will that, due to the "irresponsible, inexcusable actions of an inebriated Mike Chang", Mike would no longer be fit to perform in the upcoming national Glee competition. Will had gathered from Rachel's long-winded email that Mike had somehow thrown himself off of a hand railing and had broken his ankle. What a mess. And, to top it all off, the Glee club _still_ couldn't agree on what songs they wanted to perform at the approaching competition, which was now only two and a half weeks away. He placed both hands on either side of the mug and continued staring into the depths of the drink, as though it held answers.

"Contemplating drowning yourself, Schuester? With hair like that, can't say that I blame you. I could help you find a body of water a little bigger to really get the job done though, just say the word." Sue Sylvester quipped as she passed by, tossing a CD case into the trash basket as she did so.

William frowned at her retreating back, but found he couldn't summon the energy required for a verbal battle with Sue. His day had started off bad enough as it was. He dragged himself to his feet and made his way towards the door, stopping by the trashcan to see what CD Sue had disposed of.

_The Lion King Soundtrack?_ Will thought, confused. He bent down and plucked up the CD case. _If there's anyone who would hate the happiness and good cheer Disney music inspires, it's Sue._ Will opened the case and inspected the CD inside. Suddenly, he was struck with a brilliant idea. An idea that had nothing to do with Sue Sylvester, but everything to do with his beloved Glee club.

000

Santana Lopez's party was going down in the books as one of the most epic, hilarious, destructive events that the teenage population of William McKinley had ever experienced. Mike Chang's unfortunate fall off the foyer banister aside, Puck and Draco's fight (though rather one-sided and short lived) was the talk of the halls, and Brittany (who had actually witnessed the punch) was overheard telling some fellow cheerleaders that Puck had pulled an Uzi on Draco before being tackled to the ground by a genuine SWAT unit.

Santana had met her match in the form of Noah Puckerman in her battle to retain her title as reigning beer pong champion, and the winner of their match was still disputed, much to Santana's annoyance. Add to that the unfortunate punch bowl incident, and Santana was very unhappy indeed; storming around the school, she was prone to snap at random students and even reduced one freshman boy to tears.

But the real fodder for gossip lay in the simple fact that Santana's party was a co-ed sleepover party, and nearly everyone in attendance had spent the night. Rumors abounded: who had spent the night in the same sleeping bag, who had _not_ spent the night in the same sleeping bag.

Santana and Puck had, of course, hooked up- that was nothing new. Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson, on other hand, had _not_ hooked up, and if the rumors were to be believed, Finn had actually spent the evening in the arms of Quinn Fabray. Kurt and Blaine weren't talking, Artie and Brittany were officially an item, and Tina had reportedly spent the entire evening in the hospital at Mike Chang's side.

Draco, however, did not care about any of this. After escaping a furious Santana, he had managed to borrow a cell phone from Artie and, after a few minutes of working out the buttons, had called Sandy to secure an immediate ride home. He'd spent the rest of the weekend lounging about in front of the Squib's TV, resolutely ignoring Sandy's pointed hints to leave the house and "make some friends".

Friends. Right. Draco practically snorted as he wove his way between students, ignoring the whispers and stares that seemed to accompany him everywhere he went. Of course, he was accustomed to students whispering as he passed by, but in the past it was always with a tone of fear or reverence; in the wizarding world, the Malfoy name carried a lot of weight. Here, however, the whispering had a more conspiratorial tone. People wondering who he was, why he was there, what his fight with Puck had been about. _Let them gossip_, he thought vindictively. _They are completely beneath my concern._

000

"Well, you propose a compelling business offer, Mr. Malfoy," a small, mustachioed man in a tweed suit said, his tones nearly as oily Lucius'. He took a sip of coffee- Lucius shuddered; how could American's stand that substance?- and leaned back in his chair. "I'm intrigued as to what you plan to do with one hundred thousand pounds of dragon dung, but cash talks, so- yes, I will have it delivered to the location of your choice."

"Excellent, Mr. Drainsworth," Lucius purred. "I would like you to place the entire amount of manure in the football field of William McKinley High School. I will provide you with the exact address."

"As you wish, though I must say, one hundred thousand pounds seems a bit extreme," the stout man said, his eyebrows raised. "Surely your money could be put to better use."

Lucius raised a fist and brought it crashing to the table, making the other man jump. "Malfoys NEVER do anything half-way. Besides," he said, dabbing his lips delicately with his napkin, "it's not about the money. It's about sending a message." _A message to a particular loathsome, female muggle_, he added with a mental sneer.

000

Author's Notes:

1. Let me know what you think.

2. When I planned most of this story, the Glee characters were paired as I have written; I realize the pairings have changed, but that's because the Glee pairings change on practically a weekly basis. I just can't keep up.

3. That last line of Lucius' is not mine. Kudos to you if you know which movie it's from. (Although I suppose you could just google it, you lazy bum.)


	6. Chapter 6

Draco glanced at his gold-plated watch for the sixth time in so many minutes. Forty minutes, thirty-seven seconds until the end of English class. He barely managed to suppress a moan. Draco had spent the best part of his weekend pretending a certain muggle girl's party had never occurred, but living in such denial was decidedly more difficult when the muggle in question was three feet to his right, glaring mutinously and using a lethal-looking metal nail filer to shorten her nails.

Scrape-scrape. Scrap-scrape.

Santana paused to blow bits of dust from her pinky nail before returning to her grating pastime.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrap-scrape.

Draco clenched his teeth and spared a glance in her direction. She was staring intensely at him, nail-file swishing steadily, back and forth, back and forth. Draco scowled. Surly she'd file all her nails to nubs if she kept at this much longer?

Scrape. Scrape.

What did she want from him? Her gaze, unwavering, was burning holes in the side of his face, and Draco was fairly certain she hadn't blinked once. He tugged at his collar. Wasn't it getting a bit warm in here? Leave it to the muggles not to install some form of heat control. How primitive.

Scrape-scrape-scrape.

Draco glanced at his watch. Thirty-nine minutes, seven seconds left to go. Why, WHY had he been forced to sit next to the girl in nearly every class? "M" came after "L", that was why. Malfoy came after Lopez. Alphabetical. The fates must hate him, he decided.

Scrape-scrape.

A bead of sweat formed above Draco's left eye. He wasn't nervous, of course. He'd faced worse than an irate female. He was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! Admittedly, this particular female had a pointy metal stick in her hand, and he was wandless, but so what! He'd use his Seeker reflexes to duck if she lunged for his eyeball. Which, now that he thought of it, she looked dangerously close to doing…

There was a flash of movement to his right- something was flying towards his head!- and Draco positively dove in the other direction, knocking his book bag to the floor with a clatter as he rolled, ending in a crouched position with both fists up, ready for an attack. He paused, the only sound his heavy breathing in the stunned silence.

Cautiously, Draco peered over his desk. The entire class, plus their elderly English teacher, was staring at the teen. Most of the kids looked perplexed, though the teacher's expression was one of concern. Santana was also staring, her mouth hanging open. Well. At least she'd stopped with the damn nail filer. Puck, too, was staring, wondering how the note he'd just tossed to Draco could have elicited such a reaction.

"Er- right, then," Draco announced, as if his dive-roll across the classroom floor was nothing out the ordinary. "Dropped my quill. I mean pen." He nonchalantly flipped his hair out of his eye and slid back into his seat, smoothing his shirt as he did so.

"Well?" he demanded, when his classmates continued to stare. "Carry on."

Haltingly, the teacher resumed her lecture, still glancing at Draco as though he, Draco, were deeply disturbed. Which maybe he was, Draco reflected. He was certainly paranoid.

It was then that he noticed the crumpled note Puck had tossed him. Ah. So that was what he had seen flying towards his head and had mistaken for an attack. He uncrumpled the note and read:

You have lunch next period?

Draco went to write back, but the pen he was using scraped across the paper, leaving no mark. Frowning, Draco shook the writing device. He fiddled for a minute before he remembered and pressed the top of the pen. With a click, the ink cartridge tip poked out and Draco wrote simply,

Indeed.

Puck's answer was barely a scribble.

Sit with us?

Draco wondered if Puck felt bad about the black eye he'd given Draco. And he had no idea who "us" was. His first reaction was to ignore the invitation, but then he remembered his first day of school- was it only three days ago? It seemed like a lifetime ago- and how lonely he'd been. Besides, wasn't that the whole point of him being there in the first place? So he could learn more about muggles?

He looked up and, meeting Puck's eyes, shrugged ever so slightly. There. Let the boy make of that what he wished.

Draco dared to look at Santana. She had thankfully put away her nail file and was resolutely staring in the other direction. Draco felt his shoulders relax. He could deal with a silly girl ignoring him. Hell, he welcomed it. He made a mental note to vanish that blasted nail file the minute he got his wand back and turned in the other direction, wondering if his recent actions indicated that he was, indeed, losing his mind.

000

"So what type of music are you into?" Puck asked Draco, shoving a chicken leg and a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth simultaneously. Draco looked away in disgust and turned his attention to his own pathetic cafeteria meal. A meal he had no intention of touching.

Draco was currently surrounded by Puck and a few of his friends. Draco had deduced that the matching red-and-white clothing many of them wore signified different sports teams, much like a Quidditch uniform would. But, of course, muggles did not play Quidditch. Muggles played "football" and "cheerleading" and "soccer".

A boy, called "Finn", was chatting with a blond girl in a red-and-white uniform, while Brittany sat besides Draco at the end of the table feeding Artie, the wheelchair-bound boy, bits of chicken. Santana sat at the edge of the table across from Brittany, staring resolutely everywhere but at Draco. Draco couldn't help but feel she was listening in, anyway.

"I doubt you would be familiar with any of the musicians," Draco said dismissively in response to Puck's question. "I don't listen to music very often." That was true. Music had never really been a big part of his life. He owned a gramophone and occasionally listened to the classical records his father had given him, but that music was old fashioned, even by wizard standards. Blaise Zabini was fond of some modern wizard bands, like the Weird Sisters and Uric's Odd Ball, but Draco couldn't consider himself a fan.

"Oh, come on man," Puck said. "Give us some credit. Americans listen to British music too. Like the Beatles." He paused, clearly trying to think of another British band he'd heard of. "Well, whatever," he said with a shrug. "I would probably recognize the bands if you said them." Draco remained silent.

"How 'bout The Pussycat Dolls?" Brittany asked suddenly.

"You idiot, The Pussycat Dolls aren't British," Puck snapped.

"Oh." Brittany frowned, then brightened. "I meant the Spice Girls. I get the two confused."

What type of crap band names were these? "No, I certainly don't listen to any of those mug- I mean, I don't listen to those musicians," Draco said over Brittany, who was singing loudly.

"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my frieeeends-"

"So you really don't listen to music?" Santana asked, speaking for the first time. She didn't look at Draco, but instead admired her shortened fingernails. "Well, that needs to change ASAP."

She leaned over to Puck and whispered something in his ear. Draco felt a sense of foreboding as Puck raised his eyebrows and looked at Draco.

"What about dancing?" Santana demanded.

Draco stared. "What d'you mean?"

"Like, any kind of dancing," Puck said, watching Draco with a newfound look of interest. "You don't listen to music, but can ya move?"

Draco's sense of foreboding increased. His mother had hired a private ballroom dancer the summer before his fourth year when she had learned of the approaching Yule Ball, and the lessons must have paid off because Pansy had told him he was quite good. But Draco couldn't figure out why Santana and Puck were asking. Did muggle teenagers go dancing in their free time? Was Santana, perhaps, asking Draco to go dancing with her? The thought both thrilled and horrified him.

"I've… taken some lessons," he hedged.

Santana smirked and exchanged a look of triumph with Puck. "Fantastic. You're gonna hang out with me and Puck during Activity Period. Last period of the day."

Draco eyed her warily. "What, you're going to tie me down and force me to listen to your rubbish music?"

"No," she replied sweetly, smile still in place. "You are going to become a member of the William McKinley Glee club."

000

Draco had no idea what a Glee club was, but from the sound of the name, it was a group of inanely happy people who got together to spread their good cheer. It would be like being stuck in the Hufflepuff common room, he decided bitterly.

Draco was sitting in his study hall classroom, desperately bored. He'd had little to do over the weekend, and as such had already completed his homework- when he wasn't glued to the television, that is. He was quickly becoming addicted to the device. Judgmental though he was of anything muggle, he had found himself fascinated with the muggle sports channel and could only imagine what a Quidditch match would look like televised. He was equally fascinated with the "Disney" channel, the "Lifetime" channel (surely muggles were not so dramatic in real life as they appeared on those shows!) and the television channel "USA", which showed a crime drama called "Law and Order: SVU" on a continuous loop. Draco had spent his entire Saturday afternoon watching the television show, morbidly fascinated with the level of depravity these muggles exhibited. He wondered privately if perhaps the Dark Lord did not turn to the villains on this show for tips as he completed his own dastardly deeds.

"Mr. Malfoy? Did you forget about our meeting?"

Draco was jerked from his reverie as a tentative hand tapped him on the shoulder. That interfering guidance counselor from Friday was back. What has her name? Pillbox? No, Pilsbury. That was it.

"What meeting?" Draco demanded with a sneer.

Ms. Pilsbury gave a high-pitched laugh and smoothed her collar self-consciously. "I had asked you to meet me again today. I want to know how your first few days at William McKinley have been going!"

Sighing deeply, Draco shouldered his bag and followed the woman out of the classroom.

"Listen, ah, Miss Pilsbury, was it?" he asked, as soon as they had entered her office.

"Yes?"

"I don't need these meetings. I've been adjusting fine, everything is going fine."

"So you've been making friends?" Ms. Pilsbury interrupted, gesturing at him to take a seat. Draco remained standing.

"Uh, yeah- Yes. I've been making friends, and as I said, I don't see the need for our daily meetings."

Ms. Pilsbury gave that high pitched, nervous laugh again. "May I ask what happened to your eye? I've been hearing some rumors Mr. Malfoy, and I want to assure you that if you need to discuss any problems, you are welcome to come to me-"

"My eye is fine." Draco responded woodenly, annoyed to find that he had been a topic of discussion among the teachers

Ms. Pilsbury compulsively straitened some of the books on her desk and said, "Well, I certainly hope everything is 'fine', as you said. But until I've seen some real efforts on your part to integrate yourself into life here at William McKinley by partaking in social activities, I think it would be best for our meetings to continue."

"I have integrated myself here!" Draco responded vehemently.

"In what way?" Ms. Pilsbury asked.

Draco named the first (and only) social activity that came to his head. "I'm joining the Glee club. This afternoon. With Puck and… Santana."

Ms. Pilsbury's face broke into a wide grin. "You want to join the Glee club? Oh, that's wonderful! Mr. Schuester, the club's advisor, is a good friend of mine! I'll tell him to expect you. Oh, Draco, this is so good to hear!" To Draco's disgust, she clapped her hands, as though Draco's revelation brought her true joy.

Draco's stomach plummeted. He hadn't actually planned on going to club's meeting; now, if a teacher would be waiting for him… Still, if he joined the Glee club, he wouldn't have to deal with this annoying woman again. The tradeoff might be worth it.

"Yes. Well, I'll be joining the Glee club." Draco's mouth twisted unpleasantly. "So I don't see any reason to continue our meetings."

Ms. Pilsbury smiled. "Alright Mr. Malfoy. But I will be checking in later this week to see how you are doing. How does that sound?"

Draco didn't even dignify her with a response. He spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. _What have I gotten myself into? _

000

"Draco Malfoy? The new kid? He's joining the Glee club?" Lauren did not seem upset by this fact and leaned forward conspiratorially. Puck frowned but didn't say anything, plopping his backpack down and settling into the last row in the choir room stands.

"I can't imagine him wanting to sing and dance," Tina said. "He acts like he's the greatest thing since to ever walk the earth."

"I like him," Santana said defensively. "He's a total tool, I think that's why we get along."

Santana's defense of Draco raised a few eyebrows, but no one said anything.

"Well, as long as he doesn't sing better than me, I don't care if he joins," Rachel declared. "Has anyone actually heard him sing?" she added as a nervous afterthought.

"I frankly don't care if he sounds like William Hung," Puck announced. "He just needs to be to dance well enough to at least not completely destroy our chances at winning regionals or whatever competition we're trying to win now."

"Well, he didn't seem very eager to me," Kurt said from the corner, where he and Mercedes were pouring over a Cosmo magazine. He sounded strangely bitter. "But if you can whip him into shape, Santana, go for it."

000

At 1:45pm, Draco found himself dragging his feet towards the choir room where the daily Glee club meetings took place. Really, he ought to run in the opposite direction. There was nothing preventing him from turning around and walking right out the front doors to freedom. Nothing at all, except-

"Ah, Draco! I'm so glad you could make it!"

Draco scowled at his Spanish teacher who, oblivious to Draco's less-than-enthusiastic response, held the door open for the angry boy. The teenagers congregated inside stopped talking upon Draco's entry; Draco ignored the chilly reception and sat insolently in an empty chair in the front row.

At the conversations around him slowly resumed, Draco glanced around the choir room. There was no way any of these people were sixteen, he mused. In fact, now that he thought about it, nearly every student he had encountered thus far looked to be closer to 25. Maybe muggles aged differently than wizards. Mr. Schuester's voice broke him out of his reverie.

"Alright guys, how's everyone doing?" His teacher continued without waiting for a response. "First off, I want to welcome Draco, who's taking Mike's spot as dancer! We really appreciate it, Draco." Mr. Schuester led the class in a lukewarm round of applause. Draco scowled.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," the teacher continued. "With all the fighting that's been going on around here lately, I think it's time we reconnect with the innocence of our childhood. I found this Lion King soundtrack in the trashcan in the teacher's lounge this morning, and I realized what I want this week's theme to be. Time to break out the old VHS tapes, because this week we're doing a DISNEY THEME!"

The choir room erupted into utter chaos. Brittany was clapping and squealing, Kurt was shouting, "I CALL A WHOLE NEW WORLD! I CALLED IT!" as Rachel leapt to her feet in anger, screaming, "JASMINE IS MINE!" Finn jumped up to restrain Rachel from launching herself at Kurt.

Not everyone was riled up, however.

Quinn's face fell. "I don't know any Disney songs!" She said loudly, effectively halting the commotion around her. "I wasn't allowed to watch Disney movies."

"What?" half the room chorused, looking at her in shock. Draco wondered if "Disney" was the same thing as the muggle television channel he'd seen.

"I know, I know," Quinn sighed. "My parents felt the evil villains in all those movies didn't reflect Christian values."

"Well of course they didn't reflect Christian values!" Puck exploded. "That's why they're evil!"

Draco snorted. What did these people know of evil?

Mr. Schuester raised his hand for silence before the situation could escalate out of control again.

"I want you all to pick a few of your favorite Disney songs. If you don't know any," he inclined his head towards Quinn, "then don't stress out. You have a few days to find one. This is supposed to be _fun_," he added, exasperated by the mutinous glares that Kurt and Rachel were exchanging.

"At the end of the week, we can decide if we want to do any of those songs for the upcoming Semi-Regional District Competition. Feel free to watch your old Disney movies to prepare. Like I said, I want you to get in touch with your inner child! Alright, you can all leave. See you tomorrow."

000

Sue Sylvester barreled down the road in her enormous truck, blowing through stop signs and traffic lights like she owned the road. And, this early in the morning (4:35am), she pretty much _did_ own the road. Sue's morning routine had not changed in the nearly seven years she'd served as Head Coach for McKinley's cheer team. Every morning at precisely 4:05, she woke up, drank three raw eggs, and got ready for her day. At 4:25, she left for McKinely High School, where she ran 28 times around the track. She then completed her Jane Fonda workout tape in the empty gymnasium and ran up and down the bleachers for 30 minutes.

On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, she then spent the rest of her day planning cheer practices and, most recently, plotting ways to destroy the McKinley Glee Club. On Mondays and Wednesdays, she donned the police uniform she'd once stolen from the Drama Club and went downtown to issue citations for anything from "crimes of fashion" to "looking butt-ugly" to "parallel parking like a chimp". The fines people paid were sent directly to her home address. It was nice to have a bit of extra income flowing in; it helped pay for her yearly trip to Aruba.

On this particular Tuesday morning, Sue noticed the strange smell of manure as she approached William McKinley High School. She parked her car and jogged towards the football field, only to stop in shock. Piled in the center of the field was hill of what looked like cow poop. The stench was unbelievable. The mound was taller than Sue was and stretched for at least 20 yards.

How long Sue stood there, staring, she did not know. But she knew the message the mound of poop was sending, clear as day. Someone was challenging her. By piling the manure in the very spot where she reveled in victory year after year (her cheer team had come in 1st place seven years running), someone was spitting in her face. Challenging her. _Defying _her.

The image of a blond man and a bedazzled pimp cane flashed through her mind. Yes, she knew _exactly _who had sent this particular message. Sue's eyes narrowed, her fists clenched and she let out a roar of pure rage as she stormed towards the school.

She smashed the doorknob to Principal Figgins office and the door swung open. She stormed towards the filing cabinet where the students' parental contact information was kept, safe under lock and key. Displaying the skills she'd picked up as an Albanian spy in her early 20s, Sue expertly used a paperclip to pick the lock, determined to find the contact information for one Draco Malfoy. It was time for her to have a little parent-teacher conference. And if the parent in question didn't leave her conference alive, well, so much the better.

000

Author's Note:

I am SO sorry for the long wait! I also realize that the dynamics of William McKinely's Glee Club have changed drastically since I started this fic but I'm just going to keep with the pairings that existed back then (which was after season 2, if I remember correctly). Thanks for reviewing!


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